


Postcards From Afar

by Newerman22



Series: Language of Love [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 09:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newerman22/pseuds/Newerman22
Summary: Bucky travels the world in hopes to find where he belongs, only to spend seven years away from the love of his life.





	1. My Friends Call Me Bucky

Steve Rogers wasn’t like the other boys his age. Every other twelve year old boy ran everywhere their legs could take them, loved getting dirty and playing in the mud, spied on girls every chance they got, and were as quick moving as a jack rabbit whose tail caught on fire. Steve was, different. His health was very poor, asthma and heart problems, this boy had more ailments in his short twelve years than most folks will encounter in a lifetime. He was smaller than the other boys, weaker, slower, and couldn’t run if his life depended on it, which in some cases it did. 

Steve was on his way home from a long day at school when he heard a sound he knew all too well, the sound of fists hitting skin. Turning his head from side to side, he clenches his fists as he spots the obviously unfair fight in an alleyway across the street, quickly making his way towards them as fast as his frail lungs and limbs will allow. 

“Hey, assholes!” Steve shouts to the two boys, clearly older than and most definitely stronger than him. They turn their heads to face Steve, each one keeping one hand in a tight grip on their victims collar. The boy they were beating is young, if he had to guess Steve would say about eight or nine, blond hair matted and dirty from being thrown to the ground, nose bloody, eye black and blue, and clearly out of breath.  _ I feel you there, pal. _ Steve thinks to himself. Steve snaps his head to look at the bullies, eyeing each one with an intense stare. He recognizes the boys, their faces but not their names. He knew they were only about two years older than him, maybe three, he knew that they were troublemakers, and worst of all, he knew they were nothing but no good bullies. 

“Whaddya want, runt? We’re in the middle’a somethin’ here.” One boy snarls, earning a laugh from the other. Steve straightens his shoulders to make himself appear more threatening, and clenches his fists.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size for a change?” Steve says with the most intimidating voice he can muster. 

“What’s it to ya? This ain’t got nothing to do with you.” The other boy growls, letting go of his grip on the kids shirt. 

“It does now.” Steve steps forward and throws a punch into the face of the boy still holding on to the kid, knocking him back a few steps. Quickly helping the kid to his feet, Steve hits the other boy in the back of the knee, sending him to the ground. 

“You’re dead, ya little shit.” Steve takes a hit in the small of his back, then to his face, then to his stomach, forcing him to crouch down in pain. One of the bullies grabs his arms and holds them behind his back while digging his knees into the back of the smaller boys legs, leaving him defenseless. 

“That,” Steve struggles for breath as he speaks. “That all you got?” The older boys laugh, the one behind him is pulling his arms tighter and causing him to wince as the other repeatedly punches him. Steve can feel blood trickling out of his nose, feels every punch as though it’s the first, the sounds around him drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He never stops struggling, pulling his arms and kicking his legs in an attempt at freedom, only resulting in more pain. 

Suddenly, Steve is thrown face down to the ground, free of the hands that had been harming him for what felt like hours. He turns his head to see another boy in the mix, but only he is throwing punches at the bullies. He punches the attacker in front of him, elbowing the one behind him in the same movement of his arm. Steve looks at the boy in aw, he looks about the same age as Steve, an inch or two taller, short brown hair with bangs that fall in front of his face with each punch he throws.  _ Turn around, let me see your face _ . Almost as if he heard Steve, the boy turns around, now facing the boy on the ground. His face is contorted into a serious look, clearly intent on winning the fight, a snarl on his lips, his eyebrows drawn in and bringing attention to his grey eyes. 

“Now get the fuck outta here! Next time I won’t go so easy on ya!” The boy shouts as the two bullies run down the street. Mumbling something under his breath, he turns towards Steve, holding a hand out to help him up. Steve looks at the boys face before quickly looking down and accepting the literal helping hand. Getting Steve on his feet, the new boy throws an arm around his shoulder to steady him.

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, I almost had them, I had those jerks right where I wanted ‘em.” Steve chuckles, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. 

“Sure you did, that’s why you were on the ground getting the shit beat outta ya.”  
“You see, it was all part of my plan.” Steve’s words make the boy laugh, not a pity laugh, not a “that was so dumb it was funny” laugh, but a real laugh. A laugh that shakes his entire body, makes his eyes crinkle up in the corners, a laugh that Steve wants to hear more of. 

“Your plan, huh? I think I’m gonna need to hear more about this plan.” 

“Sorry, pal. That’s top secret information, I’m afraid.” 

“Top secret? What would I need to do to earn access to this “top secret” plan?” 

“Well, you could start by introducing yourself. I’m Steve Rogers, incase you were wondering. 

“Steve Rogers.” The boy says, as if to see how it would feel on his tongue. “That’s gotta nice ring to it. My name’s James Barnes. Nice to meet you,  _ Steve Rogers _ .” The boy stresses Steves name with a smile, the sound of it his lips makes Steve smile as well. 

“James, no. You don’t look like a James. That some fake name you give out to weaklings you save?” Steve jokes, making that laugh reappear. 

“Nope. I know James is a pretty dorky name, but it’s what I’m stuck with.” 

“You gotta nickname, James?” 

“As a matter’a fact I don’t, people just call me James. My friends call me “dipshit” and crap like that.” Steve chuckles at that and smiles. 

“That’s what friends do, or so I’ve been told.” 

“So you’ve been told? Whaddya mean by that?” James’s face goes serious and Steve just shrugs his shoulders, regretting the words. He doesn’t need to bother James with his pathetic life, he should just head home. “You telling me that you ain’t got friends?” James asks. 

“Not really, no. But it don’t bother me much.” 

“Well Steve Rogers, you do now. You ever been to Crooked Creek?” James’s face goes from serious and concerned to carefree and happy in the blink of an eye. Steve tries to keep his cool as he processes what James has just said.  _ He wants to be my friend. He wants to be friends with a weak piece of shit he saved from a fight. _

“No, where’s it at?”

“Not exactly sure, but I know how to find it.” 

“Sounds good, kinda need to clean myself up before I head home. My ma’ll freak if she sees me like this.”  Steve motions to his appearance, busted lip, skin under his nose tinted red from the blood, eye bruised, clothes tattered. 

“What about the shiner? Can’t really wash that away.” 

“Aw shit, I’ll just clean up the blood, I guess. She worries more when there’s blood.” 

“Well for good reason, you only got so much of it in ya in the first place.” James jokes, earning a slight chuckle from Steve. 

“So, Crooked Creek?” Steve smiles, looking at James. 

“Crooked Creek.” James agrees, smiling at Steve before throwing an arm around the blonds shoulder and walking out of the alleyway.

 

James and Steve sit facing each other on a dry rock in the middle of the creek, thankful for the shade provided by the trees cooling them down from the June heat. The boys chatted the entire walk from the alleyway to their current location, asking questions about the other and sharing stories. Steve learned that James is a year older than him, born in March the year before him. Steve cautiously shared some of his medical issues with James, such as his asthma and screwed up heart. Steve was worried how he would react, worried that he would think less of him, worried that he would make fun of him, worried that he’d no longer what to be friends, but James reacted the exact opposite way. He was genuinely concerned about him and his health, worried that he could have been injured worse in the fight than he thought. Steve explained to him with a smile on his face, no one acted like this or worried in this way besides his own mother, that if he was injured he would know. There’s something about James, Steve realized, that just draws him to the dark haired boy. Something he couldn’t quite understand, something that made him want to stay with his new friend as long as possible, something he guessed came with true friendship. 

“So where’s home for you, Steve?” James asks, throwing stones into the water.

“Brooklyn. Southwest corner, just off the corner of 6th and Roosevelt, it’s the best. You?” 

“No shit? That’s where I’m from, I’m just off the corner of 5th and Hoover! Looks like we ain’t even a mile apart. What are the chances?” James says with excitement, over the moon that Steve is so close to him. James moves so he sits closer to Steve, smiling from ear to ear. 

“How the hell have we never run into each other before?” Steve asks with a smile, shocked that he has lived so close to his best friend without knowing it, or knowing him for that matter. Just to think if he had walked down 5th everyday instead of 7th he would have had a friend much sooner.  

“Well, I like to think everything happens for a reason. Who knows how different things would be if we met before, maybe I wouldn’t’a been there to save your ass from those jerks, or maybe I’d have been by your side fightin’ from the get go.” Steve smiles and shakes his head at the thought, the thought of James fighting by his side made him, made him, well he wasn’t quite sure what to call the emotion he was feeling, but he sure as hell knew that it felt  _ right _ . Felt as though he has been an unfinished puzzle all his life and the boy sitting next to him was his final piece. 

“You have a great outlook on life, you know that?” Steve says as he adjusts his position so his legs are laid out in front of him and his weight is resting on his arms that are stretched out behind his back, head tilted to look at James. 

“How’s that?” James asks, moving to copy Steve’s new position so they’re side by side. 

“You think that us not meetin’ till today happened for a reason, that there’s a plan for us that’s out of our control. I see it that we didn’t meet until today because I have the worlds shittiest luck, I lived only a street away from a guy that is everything that a best friend should be but couldn’t meet ‘im. I see it that the only reason we met was because I was getting the shit kicked out of me and you were a good enough soul to help.” Steve moves his arms in front of his chest, lying flat on his back on the rock.

“Are you saying you think that’s unlucky? Because in my opinion you and I are two of the luckiest punks in Brooklyn, so close to meeting but the universe waited for just the right moment, knowing that if it happened too soon or too late it wouldn’t be the same. It waited for everything to aline so things would go as planned.” 

“That sure don’t sound like luck to me, Buck, I mean punk.” Steve corrects himself, his tired brain screwing with his mouth.

“What’d you call me?” James asks. 

“I called you a punk, why?” 

“No, before that.” 

“Oh, I screwed up and said “Buck”. Didn’t mean nothing by it.” James lightly but energetically pats on Steve’s chest. “What?” Steve asks in confusion. 

“That’s it!” 

“What’s what?” Steve sits up and shoots his friend a strange look.

“You yourself said James don’t fit me, that I ain’t a James. What about Buck?” Steve finally realizes what his friend is excited about and smiles. 

“Holy shit, yeah! But not just Buck, too simple. How ‘bout Bucky?” 

“Bucky, Bucky. That’s perfect! Do I look like a Bucky?” The brunette stands up and strikes a pose, feet spread slightly apart, one hand on his hip one in his hair, head angled to the sky. Steve shakes his head and laughs.

“You look like an idiot.” James looks down at his friend and fakes an offended look, Steve laughs even harder and kicks at his feet, knocking him into the shallow water. 

“You asked for it, punk!” James laughs, reaching up on the rock and pulling Steve into the water, smiles on both of their faces. Steve shakes his head like a dog after a bath, water flying from his hair and hitting his friend in the face. 

“Alright, alright, I deserved that.” The boys laugh and smile at each other, spending the next half hour or so swimming and floating in the shallow waters of the creek. 

“Hey we should probably head back home, since we’re so close to each other we could see if one of us could stay over or something.” Steve says as he gets out of the water. 

“I like the sound of that, Stevie. Your place or mine?” Bucky smirks as he follows Steve out of the water. 

“I don’t mind, we could just stop by your place first since it’s on the way.” Steve chuckles as he throws Bucky his shoes. 

“That sounds like a plan, my guess is we’ll probably just stay at your place, if that’s cool with your folks. My place is kinda crowded, small apartment for a big family.” 

“Lotta siblings? That must be nice.” Steve says as he and his friend start on their way home. 

“Actually, I’m an only child. It’s just that my old man’s folks and my ma’s sister and her kids are staying with us for a while, dad’s folks are only staying us ‘cause their house burnt down, and my aunt is only staying because her husband walked out on them. So we have eight people all stayin’ in a two bedroom apartment.”

“That sounds like a party.” Steve jokes, looking up at his friend. 

“It’s something alright, what’s home like for you? I can’t believe I haven’t asked about your family yet, I guess I do too much talking of my own. What’s your old man like?” The question hits Steve in the gut, he doesn’t really talk about his father too much after what happened, it haunted the young boy for years, blaming himself for his father’s death. 

“He, uh, he isn’t with us anymore. Passed away a few years back, nothing I could do about it.” He says, his voice quiet and shy. Bucky wants to hit himself for bringing it up, he feels like such an asshole. 

“Oh, Steve. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”   
“It’s alright, Buck. Like you said, you didn’t know. Well anyway, my ma’s a nurse. Her name’s Sarah, pretty young as much as parents go I guess. It’s just me and her, not much more to say about her. We live in a two bedroom apartment, it’s small but it’s all we need. We moved after dad passed, ma said the place was full of too many memories. Ma had to sell a lot of our stuff a few years ago, I got real sick and we couldn’t afford treatment, ma being a nurse was able to tell what was wrong but wasn’t sure how to fix it. So she sold a few things, picked up a few extra shifts and she was able to get me into a specialist, we almost couldn’t even afford to _see_ him, let alone pay him for treatment. She ended up having to sell most of our furniture, some of our clothes, and a trunk full of dads stuff that I wasn’t allowed to look in. A few months later I was healthy, well, as healthy as I can get. We still don’t have a lot, meds and rent are pretty expensive, and we need every extra dime we got for food, so not having a comfy couch or shit like that isn’t really that bad. I got a nice bed though, queen mattress and nice sheets.” As he spoke, Steve’s gaze shifted from looking at Bucky, to looking at the ground, to looking out in front of them. Bucky’s eyes never left Steve’s face, not that the blonde would realize. Bucky hung on every word Steve spoke, when Steve would look at him he could tell the his friend was actually listening to what he was saying. 

“Sounds like you’ve really struggled, looking at you I never woulda guessed that any of that had happened to you. You sure don’t show it.” 

“You’ve known me for a day, pal. Trust me, I show it more often than I should.” Steve says warily. Bucky throws an arm around him and sighs.

“That’s a good thing, you can’t keep everything bottled up inside you forever. It’s good to show it, and I’ll be happy to be the person you open up to.” 

“You mean that?” 

“Of course I do, punk. Why wouldn’t I? I feel closer to you than I have to anyone, when I saw you getting pounded in that alleyway I thought to myself, “James, this is someone you need to meet”, so I saved you. Glad I did, too. I feel as though I’ve been friends with you for years, does that make sense?” 

“It does, I feel the same. Almost as though I’ve known you my whole life.” 

“See, I told you. Everything happens for a reason. We were made to be best friends, and the universe knew that we had to wait until today to meet. Maybe the reason we live so close is so we don’t have to walk so far to see each other.” Bucky explains, causing Steve to smile. 

“Hell, maybe it’s ‘cause of my lungs.” Steve jokes. 

“Probably! That actually makes perfect sense.” Bucky laughs, causing Steve to laugh, which makes Bucky laugh even more. 

The boys walk to Bucky’s place, never a dull moment or a single awkward silence. They joke back and forth, some innocent and some dirty jokes that they didn’t completely understand even though they thought they did. They shared stories and favorite memories, finding out there were so many times they almost met, Bucky says that the universe wasn’t ready for it yet. The closest encounter was the story that took the longest to tell, ending a few blocks away from their destination. The story started as Steve sharing his favorite summer memory.

“I was at the carnival with my dad when I was about seven or eight, and he entered me in this contest for kids where you went on stage and showed your talents and shit like that, and the winner won, uh, I think it was an autographed book or something like that,” Steve stops talking for a second as he breaks into a fit of laughter at the memory. “I sang the National Anthem as my talent. I didn’t win, I think I got like fourth place or something, but the look on my dad’s face as he watched me up on stage made me realize I didn’t need to win to make him proud. He took me out to get ice cream from my favorite shop out on Jefferson, and as I was sitting there making a mess of myself, my old man saved a kids life.” Steve shakes his head with a smile as he remembers how proud of his dad he was, how he was so glad to have him as a father. 

“He saved a kids life? How’d he do that?” Bucky asks, but he believes he already knows the answer. 

“Well, he was walking towards the street to throw away some garbage, and there was a kid who tripped and fell down in the street, the kid didn’t notice the car that was barreling down the road towards him, but my dad did. He was like a damn superhero, picked up the kid and but him down safely on the sidewalk. He knelt down to be face to face with the kid and said, “Son, no matter how hard you fall, you ca-”

“Can always muster the strength to get back up.” Bucky finishes for him. Steve stops walking and turns to his friend with a shocked look on his face. 

“How did you know that?” 

“Steve, that was me. Me and my ma were on our way home from the carnival, with the autographed book that I won, when I tripped and fell into the street, only to be saved by your old man. What are the chances?” Bucky practically shouts with the largest smile Steve has ever seen. 

“Okay, maybe I’m startin’ to believe your whole “everything happens for a reason” thing.” 

“See? Told ya, maybe that was the universe testing us or something, like if your old man could save me then we could be friends.” 

“Hey, isn’t this you? 5th and Hoover?” Steve asks, pointing to the street signs. 

“I woulda walked right past it if you hadn’t pointed it out, yeah, I live right down here.” The boys chuckle and shove at each other as they make their way up the steps to Bucky’s apartment. As they walked through the door, Steve stopped and looked around him, taking in every detail he could.

“James, who’s your friend?” Someone asks, making Steve turn around to see an man with the same brown hair as his new friend, standing next to a blonde woman with the same grey eyes.

“This is Steve Rogers, we were wondering if I could stay over at his place?” Bucky states as he gently pats Steve on the back. 

“Rogers? Why does that name sound familiar?” Bucky’s mother asks her husband. 

“It could be because Steve’s dad is the man who saved me that summer after the carnival. If that helps you make your decision at all.” Bucky smirks and looks at Steve, the blonde just rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Is that right? Well, Steve you are always welcome in the Barnes home. How’s your dad anyway? I never got to properly thank him.” Bucky’s father speaks as he wanders around the kitchen, pulling things from cupboards. 

“Well, actually Mr. Barnes, my father passed a few years back, but I’m sure he understood and would gladly accept your appreciation.” Steve’s voice is soft as he speaks, missing his father with every memory he is forced to look back on.

“I’m sorry to hear that, and sorry that I brought it up, me and my big mouth.” Watching and listening to Mr. Barnes makes Steve understand where Bucky gets his personality from. 

“So, Steve, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself? Where’s home, how’s home, what you’re like, how’d you meet James, how old are you, that kinda stuff?” Bucky’s mother asks, making the brunette blush of embarrassment. 

“Um, well I live just over on 6th and Roosevelt, home’s pretty great, just my ma and I, I guess I’m a good kid, I tend to stick up for the little guy, I’m 12- I’ll be 13 next month, and I met James when h-” 

“We met out at Crooked Creek.” 

“Sounds, fun. You’re welcome to go James, just be back before dark tomorrow night.” 

“Yes! Thanks ma!” Bucky takes Steve’s hand and pulls him through the apartment, stopping in front of a dresser. Bucky grabs a bag from underneath the dresser and begins to fill it with clothes, then once again he is taking Steve’s hand and leading him out of the apartment, bidding a quick goodbye to his parents and other family members in the home. 

“Steve, this is going to be great. Whaddya wanna do when we get to your place?” Bucky asks as the pair make their way down the stairs. 

“I don’t know for sure, I’ve never had a friend over before. I guess we could watch movies and stuff, if you’re into that.” 

“I’m into movies, what kinda movies you thinking?” 

“You like action movies?” The boys round the corner to Steve’s apartment as they talk, discussing movies, which ones are good and what they should watch, they decide on a few movies they need to watch because of how bad they are, and they finally arrive at Steve’s home. They walk inside, Bucky shocked about the lack of furniture even with the warning from Steve. 

“Hi, honey, how are you feeling? Did you have a good day?” Steve’s mother asks as she pulls her son into a hug, not even noticing Bucky. 

“Yeah, I had a real good day, ma.” She lets go of her son to look him in the eye, noticing the bruised eye immediately. 

“Oh my goodness! Steve I thought I told you no more fights! You could get hurt, or worse! You know what could happen I mean just l-” She stops her words as she finally sees Bucky, who just stands there awkwardly and smiles. 

“Ma’am, I told Steve the same thing, if it hadn’t been for me he coulda’ been seriously hurt.” 

“Thank you, dear. Steve is very lucky to have a friend like you. I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Sarah, Steve’s mother. And you are?” 

“James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.” 


	2. Till The End Of The Line

Steve and Bucky have been inseparable for months, always with each other, fighting side by side. The boys were currently at Crooked Creek, poking the semi-frozen water with sticks and keeping each other from falling in. They laughed and joked in the cold, Bucky asking every five seconds if Steve was breathing alright, and everytime the blonde would answer yes with a groan. They stayed by the water until the sun started to set, Steve deciding it was time to head back to his place. Bucky was constantly staying with Steve, not that he minded. Bucky was Steve’s best, well, only friend. Steve felt as though he could tell Bucky anything without having to worry about what the consequences would be, and Bucky of course felt the same way. The winter air wasn’t so hard to breathe with Bucky by his side, his friend made him feel invincible. 

The boys made their way into the apartment to find Sarah Rogers sitting at the table with her head in her hands, crying. Both Steve and Bucky were instantly concerned, rushing over to the distressed woman. 

“Ma? What’s wrong?” Steve asks, voice soft and calm, hand rubbing his mother’s back. She raises her head and wipes a tear away from her face, taking a deep breath. 

“Bucky, it’s, it’s your family.” Bucky stiffens at the words, he swears his heart stopped beating. 

“What happened?” His voice is hard and he bites down on his jaw, fearing what Sarah will answer. 

“They were on their way to the airport, and their car was hit head on by a drunk driver. There, there were no survivors. I’m so sorry sweetie.” She chokes on her words, tears running down her face as she delivers the horrible news to the young boy infront of her. Bucky stumbles backward, his back hitting the wall. 

“Oh Buck, I am so sorry.” Steve tells his best friend, walking over to him with open arms. Bucky falls to his knees with his arms wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, bringing him to the floor with him. Steve pulls his heartbroken friend into his chest, enveloping him in his small figure, Bucky’s head resting on his breast bone as he begins to sob, holding his friend as close as he can. Sarah stands and makes her way towards the kitchen, she decided to make Bucky a home cooked meal, knowing that when she lost her husband food was a comforting gift. The boys stay there for a long time, Steve sitting with his back to the wall with Bucky curled into his chest, hands around his neck. Steve whispers comforting words into his friends ear while rubbing his back, the touch feeling so intimate and full of love, which it most definitely was. Bucky was Steve’s best friend, his rock, his comfort, and he hated seeing him so broken. Bucky cried into Steve’s chest for well over an hour, finally stopping when Sarah had begun to set the table. He pulled away from his friend, wiping his eyes and shaking his head. Bucky turns to see Sarah watching the boys with sad eyes, and he immediately turns back to Steve, whispering in his ear.

“Ma, would it be alright if Buck and I ate in my room?” Steve asks once Bucky rested his head on the blondes shoulder, Sarah of course allowing them. The boy’s slowly stand and make their way to the kitchen, Steve serves Bucky a plateful of mashed potatoes and steak before giving himself the same, then both boys make their way to Steve’s bedroom. They sit on the bed facing one another as they eat in comfortable silence, Steve isn’t sure if it would be better to try and get him to talk or just leave him to his thoughts, so he says nothing. Steve finishes eating first, but doesn’t want to disturb his friend so he simply sits and waits, watching the boy in front of him. He watches as Bucky slowly eats, mostly playing with his food. He wants to draw him, the way the moonlight casts a perfect glow on his tear stained cheeks, the way his piercing grey blue eyes now have a slight red quality to them, the way his lips rest low on his face, not a frown but not a smirk, almost as if he doesn’t have the energy to have them rest anywhere else. 

“Can we just leave these in here? I don’t want to go out there right now, I love your ma and all, I just don’t have it in me to see that look of pain she had again.” Bucky says, voice barely above a whisper. He sounded so lost, so broken, Steve has never heard his voice like this before. It breaks his heart, his strong and fierce friend suddenly sounding so small and vulnerable. 

“I can take them out there, I don’t mind.” Steve reaches for the empty plates only to stop in his tracks at his friends voice. 

“No! Can you please just stay here? I don’t wanna be alone, even if it’s just for a second. Can we please just deal with them in the morning?” Bucky begs. There is no way Steve would deny him anything at this moment, so he of course agrees. 

“Yeah, Buck. No problem. There anything I can do? I think I’ve got a deck of cards in here somewhere.” Steve suggests, wanting to help get his friends mind off of the horrific tragedy, even if only for a second. Bucky just shakes his head, looking down at his thumbs. 

“Is there anything you want, Buck? I’ll get you anything you need.” Bucky looks up at his friend and starts to tear up again. He lays down on the bed facing away from Steve, curling into his arms as he begins to cry harder. Steve once again can feel his heart break at the sight of his best friend in such agony. Steve lays down right next to Bucky, and begins to rub his back in an attempt to soothe him. Before he realizes, Steve is laying on his side with Bucky’s head buried in his chest, Steves arms wrapped around his neck and rubbing at his back while telling the brunet that everything will be okay. 

“I’ve gotcha, Bucky, it’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t seem like it will be, but things will slowly get better. Everything’s gonna be alright, Bucky, you’re going to be okay. I’ve gotcha, Buck, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

A month has passed since the accident, Bucky’s been staying with Steve and his mother, and things have been getting better. He sleeps in Steve’s bed, unable to fall asleep anywhere else, and he started going to school with Steve. Bucky was homeschooled his entire life, so adjusting to public school was a strange experience for him, but he got through it with Steve at his side. The boys had every class together so they never had to part with one another, something that they were extremely thankful for. 

Everything in Bucky’s life had been destroyed, only to be replaced with the beauty, love, and happiness that is the Rogers family. Sarah treated him like a son, with love and care, and Bucky felt at home. Every day after school he and Steve would walk home, do any homework they had while Sarah cooked, eat dinner as a family, and then the two boys would retreat to their room. 

The boys didn’t need separate beds, even if they could afford it they wouldn’t want one, Bucky only able to sleep with Steve by his side. They had tried sleeping separately at first, but Bucky would always wake up with night terrors, Steve was able to calm him down. He hasn’t had a night terror in weeks thanks to Steve, he’d never slept better in his life than when he had Steve next to him. While Bucky was finally used to the routine of school, home, dinner, sleep, Steve was used to his own. It was the same as Bucky’s except for one thing, after Bucky would fall asleep Steve would crawl out of bed and draw him. Bucky was his favorite thing to draw, and he was getting better at it every night. Steve would sketch his best friend, hide the drawing in his sock drawer, then return to sleep. It was a perfect arrangement that went on for years. 

As the boys neared the end of their senior year of high school, they still continued this arrangement. It was purely platonic, Steve always thought, it was just what friends did. With only a few days left of their high school career, Steve started to worry about what was to come. 

“What are your plans, after school?” Steve asked Bucky one night as they lay in bed. 

“Well, I want to travel the world. Go backpacking from country to country, experience other cultures, learn other languages. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, I’m glad you asked because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.” Steve swears he can feel his heart break at his best friends plans for the future, because he knows once Bucky’s planned something there is no way to stop him. 

“Oh, for how long?” 

“However long I need it to be.” 

“Whaddya mean by that?” Steve sits up and turns towards his best friend, they’re bother bigger than they were when they first started this arrangement, Bucky’s taller and buffer, built with more muscle than Steve could ever dream of having, and Steve was still that scrawny little twig except now he was a slightly taller scrawny little twig. 

“Well, ever since I lost my family I’ve been moochin’ off you and Sarah, I just decided that I couldn’t do that forever. Decided that I need to go out and discover home for myself.” 

“In another country?” Steve is clearly angry, but he tries not to let it show through his words.

“Maybe. I’ve been saving up for a few years now, still got all that money from my family's estate. I need to do this, Steve. I promise I’ll stay in touch, I’ll message you every chance I get, send you postcards every day. I just need to do this.” Steve wants to argue, he wants to get mad, he wants to cry, he wants to hold onto Bucky and never let him go, but if Bucky says he needs to do it, then Steve has no right to try and stop him. 

“Alright, Buck. When you thinking you’ll leave?” Steve asks, laying back down and shaking his head slightly. 

“I was planning sometime in August, there’ll be decent weather in every country, and most importantly I won’t miss your birthday.” Bucky smiles as he rolls over closer to his friend. 

“Well that’s a plus. Couldn’t have you skipping town on me before then.” 

“What would you do about it, punk? Not like you can take me or anything.” Bucky jokes, making Steve smile. Bucky curls into Steves chest and sighs happily.

“Trust me, pal. I so could. I know all your moves, you wouldn’t stand a chance. After I kicked your ass you’d be beggin’ for mercy.” 

“Sure I would. Well, no matter how many times you hypothetically kick my ass, I’ll still be with you to the end of the line.


	3. Missing You All Alone

Steve sits in the front seat of his car alone, beating himself up for letting Bucky go so easily. When the summer started, Steve knew it was going to end this way, he just didn’t expect it to hurt so much. Every moment that they spent together Steve treated as though it was their last. He hates that it took him this long to realize how he felt towards his best friend, and now he was gone for who knows how long, on a plane headed to France. Bucky promised to write and message him as often as he could, but it’s doubtful that he’ll be able to charge his phone let alone have a strong enough signal to message him in the middle of nowhere. 

Steve drives back to his apartment in silence, only his thoughts to keep him occupied. He says goodnight to his mother and locks himself in his room, laying on Bucky’s side of the bed simply breathing in his scent. He shakes his head and gets out of bed, drawing as many sketches of Bucky as he could before he couldn’t keep his eyes open, in fear that if he doesn’t document the beauty now it will be lost from his mind forever. He goes through half of his sketchbook before he’s satisfied, going back through and carefully tearing each one out and setting them down on the bed. His eyes travel from drawing to drawing, some are better looking than others, and some are more innocent. Most of them are from memory, but as Steve became more and more desperate he began to document fantasy, nothing he hadn’t done before. 

Laying down on Bucky’s side of the bed once again, Steve holds up a drawing of his best friend, only it’s something he never got the chance to see in person. The picture shows Bucky on his knees, legs spread, with a hand on his dick. Living with his best friend for years, Steve had caught the occasional “accidental” view of Bucky’s cock, and he was able to draw it in beautiful detail. Steve bites his lip as he fantasies about his best friend for what feels like the millionth time. That night he comes with a desperate moan of Bucky’s name. 

Days turn into weeks before he finally hears from Bucky for the first time since he left. It’s a postcard from Istanbul, Turkey. 

_ Steve, I know it’s been a while since I’ve been able to contact you, but there is no cell service anywhere up here. Miss you tons. It’s been hard sleeping alone, I’ve only had a few terrors since I left Brooklyn. Keeping you in my thoughts, punk. Hopefully we can message soon. Your friend, Bucky Barnes. _

Steve reads the card time and time again, holds it close to him as he tries to sleep, he eventually settles for putting it under his pillow instead, less likely to lose it that way. He dreams about Bucky, wakes up with a hard on, and comes to the thought of Bucky’s lips around his dick. 

Steve messages Bucky occasionally in the hopes that he’ll answer, but he has no such luck. He’s forced to settle with a postcard every so often, coming anywhere from a couple days to a few weeks apart. Each postcard is from a different country, and in each one he talks about a different adventure. He raves about food, about the people he’s met, and about all of the beauty he is witnessing. Steve notices that each card is signed off the same way. “Your friend, Bucky Barnes.” Friend. That’s all he is, a friend. 

Bucky has been gone for 7 months now, and today is his birthday. When Steve woke up that morning he messaged Bucky, knowing he most likely would answer or even see it. 

_ Happy birthday, Buck! Brooklyn ain’t the same without you, it’s a lot quieter. Wishing you the best. _

Steve puts his phone away and sighs, today was moving day for him. He was accepted into the art program at NYU, and was moving into an apartment up there, and he was extremely worried that he wouldn’t get Bucky’s letters anymore.

A few days later he got a message from Bucky, and he was over the moon. 

**_Bucky_ ** _ : Hey! I am so sorry I haven’t been able to message you for so long. How are things going? _

**_Steve:_ ** _ It’s cool, don’t sweat it. Things are going pretty good, I’m a college man now. Living in New York, here's my new address if you want to mail me anything ******** _

**_Bucky:_ ** _ College? You’re so mature. Meanwhile I’m in Spain getting drunk off my ass _

**_Steve_ ** _ : Sounds like something you’d do, how are things with you?  _

**_Bucky_ ** _ : Things are fucking incredible, having the time of my life.  _

**_Steve:_ ** _ That’s good to hear, glad you’re having fun _

**_Bucky_ ** _ : Gtg, my group is heading out. I’ll message you when ever I can, and I’ll write no matter what!  _

Steve sighed as he read the final message, the first conversation he’s had with his best friend in months, and it barely lasted ten minutes. Shaking his head, Steve lays down on the air mattress in his new home as he looks through every drawing he’s ever made of Bucky. They go back years, the older ones are the worst quality but give off the best emotion, Steve can almost hear Bucky’s laugh as he looks at drawings of his wide smile. Drawing after drawing their meanings slowly change, going from friendly sketches, to drawings of pure want, love, and lust. Steve’s hard cock strains in the fabric of his jeans as he looks through the dirty drawings, searching for his favorite one, but he can’t seem to find it. Steve has never shown these to anyone, not even Bucky. They were safely tucked away in his drawer, a drawer that Bucky never used or even opened. Steve sighs as he comes to the conclusion that he has lost his best drawing of his friend, settling on a different drawing to pleasure himself to. 

Over the next few weeks, Steve gets sick. Wanting to catch it before it gets worse Steve goes to a doctor. At his appointment the doctor recommends a regular exercise routine to keep him in shape and improve his health, so Steve gladly joins a gym and starts working out a couple hours every night. He comes home to an empty apartment, nothing but a queen mattress in the back room where he sleeps, his dresser, and a few kitchen appliances. He jerks off in the shower thinking about Bucky, and goes to sleep. 

Days go by and Steve gets a few postcards from Buck, who is apparently in Asia now. They all sign off in the usual way and give an estimate of when he’ll be able to write again. Steve relieves his frustrations in two ways, getting off and working out.

Bucky has been gone for over a year now, and Steve wants to break down. He talks to his doctor about what he should do and the doctor just suggested taking better care of his body, not letting his depression win. So Steve starts to eat better, he even drinks protein shakes and that kind of shit now, and it’s starting to make a noticable difference. He’s grown taller,-his doctor saying that it’s perfectly normal now that his body is receiving proper nutrients- he’s a good six feet tall now, he is toned, and he hasn’t had an asthma attack in months. Everytime he gets a letter from Bucky he jerks off several times that night, then spends most of the next day at the gym. 

Bucky’s been gone two years now, and Steve has started drawing him again. With no connection to internet there aren’t any new photos of Bucky anywhere, so Steve goes by memory. He outlines his prominent cheekbones and soft jawline, then shades his eyes, those beautiful eyes. Steve wishes that he could see them in person one more time. 

Two and a half years have gone by since Bucky left and tragedy strikes, Steve’s mother has passed away. Steve messages Bucky about it, but doesn’t expect a reply anytime soon, they haven’t messaged in almost a year now. He still receives postcards from Bucky, and at this point in his life they are the only thing keeping him from ending it all. The postcards are more frequent than ever before, Steve finds them in his mail at least twice a week now. Bucky’s in Africa now, he seems so happy. Steve notices that in the past few letters he has mentioned some girl named Cameron, nothing huge but things like “I stopped at this adorable coffee shop with Cameron”, and Steve wants to break something. He was afraid that Bucky never felt the same way, and now he had proof. The next few days Steve spent on the punching bag at the gym, trying to relieve some anger. 

Steve starts dating, well at least he tries to. So far he’s only had a few quick hook ups in the back of cars or in someone’s apartment. He’s fucked both girls and guys, but he’s dying to be the one taken. Bucky stopped mentioning Cameron when he went to South America. Steve is hoping they broke up, if they were even together. 

Four years have come and gone since the day his best friend left, Steve still receiving postcards from afar, each one signed off the same way they have been for years. Steve finally had a job working with his friend Tony, someone he met in art class. Tony builds and Steve draws, they make a perfect team. Steve didn’t understand why Tony would take an art class when he was so clearly interested in engineering, but thanks god that he did. 

It’s been six years now, and Steve hasn’t been able to message or contact Bucky in anyway in almost four. Steve still draws Bucky almost every night, now having five sketchbooks full of his face and body. Still receiving postcards every few days, he notices that the sign off has changed. For six years it’s been “Your friend, Bucky Barnes”, and now it’s “I’ve almost found home, Bucky.” Steve wasn’t sure what that meant but he was worried that it meant Bucky would never return to him. The thought of never seeing Bucky again broke his heart, he texted Tony telling him he wouldn’t be at work the next few days, and spent the entire time at the gym, and jerking off alone in his bed clinging to a drawing of his best friend. 

It’s been almost seven years since Bucky left, and nearly five since Steve last messaged him when the phone rings. 

“Hello?” Steve answers it grudgingly, mind now distracted from his drawing of Bucky making love to him. 

“Hey, punk. Missed the sound of your voice.” 


	4. French Is The Language of Love

“Bucky?” Steve asks, dropping his pencil and standing up. 

“Yeah, Stevie, it’s me. I know what you’re gonna say, it’s been years since we last really talked, and you’re completely right. This asshole I used to travel with knocked my phone into a river a few years ago. Thank fuck this is still your number. Well, anyway, I’ve decided that my home ain’t out here, so I was thinking about coming back to the states, would you be okay with me staying with you for a while?” Bucky asks. Steve barely understood any of that because his brain is caught up on the fact that it’s  _ Bucky _ . 

“Of course, I would, Buck! Just warning you though I have a studio.” 

“That sounds perfect, we’ll share just like we used to.” Bucky laughs and Steve’s jeans become tighter at the thought.

“You sure about that? We ain’t kids anymore, probably won’t be as comfy as it used to be.” 

“As long as it’s an actual mattress, I’ll be comfortable. So when would be a good time for me to fly in?” 

“Uh, whenever you want to I guess, I have a really flexible schedule so, uh, whenever you want to.” Steve stumbles over his words, his mind stuck in a loop of Bucky, bed, cock. 

“How about next week?” 

“Next week sounds great!”  _ Bucky, bed, fuck. _

“Perfect! I’ll land in JFK at 9:30 Monday morning, that sound good to you?” 

“Monday sounds amazing.” Steve hasn’t seen his best friend in seven years, and he’s finally going to in four days. 

“I can’t wait. So, Stevie, what’s new with you? How’s life? How’s college? How’s your ma?” That is where Steve’s boner dies, and his heart sinks. 

“I guess you never got my message, Buck, ma died about five years ago.” The other end of the line is silent and then Steve hears the distinct sound that he knows is Bucky crying.

“How?” He asks with a broken voice. 

“She had a stroke in her sleep, doctor’s said she didn’t feel anything.” Steve’s crying now, and he just wants Bucky to hold him. 

“Fuck, I shoulda been there with you, I’m so sorry Steve.” 

“There was nothin’ you coulda done, Buck.” 

“I am so sorry, Steve.” 

“Don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong, just talk about something else.” 

“Like what?” 

“How about you tell me your favorite memory from your experience.” Bucky chuckles on the other end of the line and conversation comes easily for the two. They talk for hours, Steve starts to yawn but powers through to talk to his best friend. 

“It’s really late back home, ain’t it? I should probably let you get some sleep so you can function tomorrow.” 

“I guess that’s for the best. I’ve fucking missed talking to you, Buck. Call me again tomorrow?” 

“I won’t be able to, the only reason I’m calling you now is because I’m in staying with a nice family in Germany who let me use their phone, I’m on my way to France tomorrow so I can make my flight on Monday.” Steve sighs, but quickly smiles when he remembers he’ll have Bucky back on Monday, only four more days until he sees him again. 

“Well alright then, I guess this is goodbye. I’ll see you Monday, Buck.” 

“ _ Hyvästi avaa oven ihana hello, rakkaani. _ ” 

“Bucky, I don’t speak, whatever the hell language that was.”

“I know.”

“Goodnight, punk.”

“ _ Bonne nuit mon amour, bientôt je te tiendrai encore dans mes bras. _ ” And with that, Bucky hung up the phone. He hasn’t been this happy in years.  _ Thank fuck the American school system sucks at foreign languages.  _ He thinks to himself, so happy he was finally able to confess his feelings, even if Steve didn’t understand. He knows Steve once felt the same way, but he’s worried that after seven years apart the feeling was lost. Bucky sighs and makes his way into the guest bedroom where he will be sleeping. He closes and locks the door and begins to carefully unzip his pack, grabbing a piece of paper he has had with him for seven years, and old drawing Steve made of the two of them. 

There were several small sketches on the piece of paper, some of them kissing, some of just the two of them smiling at each other, but his favorite was the one in the center of the page. It was Steve sitting in Bucky’s lap, stuffed so full of his dick that the blonde has his head thrown back and his face contorted into what Bucky can only believe is Steve’s orgasm face. Steve drew the pair naked, sweating, and covered in come. This has been Bucky’s favorite drawing of them since he found it when they were younger. He woke up one night to find Steve asleep on the other side of the room, sketch book in hand. He had been drawing Bucky sleeping, capturing every detail perfectly. Bucky wondered how many times his friend has done this without his knowledge, and he wanted to know where he’d been hiding them. Bucky has had a crush on Steve ever since they met, but he didn’t want to do anything and lose his best and only friend. Bucky laid back in bed, and-he isn’t proud of this, but it got the job done- faked a night terror. Steve instantly woke up, hid the drawing in his sock drawer, and was at Bucky’s side in less than ten seconds. While Steve was at work the next day, Bucky jerked off while looking through the hundreds of drawings. Having already planned that he was going to travel the world and leave Brooklyn behind, he decided to keep one for himself, hiding it in his own sock drawer until the day he left, from that day on he took it everywhere he went, he got off looking at it damn near every night. 

He jerked off slowly, teasing himself like he would want Steve to, coming with his best friends name on his lips.

Steve was desperate to know what Bucky had said, but decided he would have to wait until Monday, he had more important things to do at the moment than worry about what was said. He laid down on his bed with a drawing of  Bucky fucking into him in one hand, and a little toy that he bought a few months back. He fucked himself desperately, switching from imagining Bucky pounding into him to imagining riding him. Steve fucked himself for an hour and a half before finally coming with a scream of Bucky’s name. 

  
  
  
  


It was finally Monday, and Steve was on his way to the airport to pick up Bucky. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He knew that he was so happy that his Bucky was finally coming home, but he was worried that he wouldn’t be the same Bucky he fell in love with.  _ What if his personality is completely different now? What if I do something stupid and he hates me for it? What if he doesn’t feel the same way, and never did? What if he used to feel the same way, but won’t be attracted to my new look?  _ So many horrible and terrifying questions swam through his mind, making him extremely nervous about reuniting with Bucky. He parked his car in short term and sat next to the baggage claim and waited. His flight landed a few minutes ago, so he’ll be here any moment. His eyes scan through the crowd, with no sight of his best friend he begins to walk around, stopping dead in his tracks when he spots him.

His once shaggy brown hair now hangs down to his shoulders, his jaw is sharp and much more defined, his shoulders are broader, he’s taller, still taller than Steve but not by much, his bare arms look gorgeously tan and strong, and Steve can clearly make out the muscles hiding beneath his best friends thin shirt. As Steve walks towards him, he sees Bucky look directly at him, then away for a moment before quickly snapping his head back. Bucky literally runs to his friend, wrapping his arms tight around the shoulders he once knew. Neither of the men can contain their emotions at the moment, not giving a shit what anyone thinks about them. Bucky buries his face in Steve’s neck, a much easier task now that he doesn’t have to bend down. They stand there for a good three minutes, just breathing each other in, before finally separating. Bucky wipes a tear from his eyes and smiles at his best friend. Steve does the exact same thing. 

“Hey, punk. Long time no see.” Bucky laughs. “I barely recognized you, you grew on me, and you’ve actually got some meat on your bones, who are you and what have you done to Steve?” He smiles, he hasn’t stopped smiling since they landed. 

“Same to you, pal. What’s with your hair?” 

“Well, when your out on your own it’s easier to just leave it long then cut it all the time.” 

They make their way home without ever stopping the conversation, trying to catch up on seven years of life events in a matter of hours. Talking comes so easily between the two, joking with each other like nothing had changed, opening up about all the crap that’s happened, and around 10:30 the men are drunk. They currently lay on the bed tangled up in each other’s limbs as a movie plays on the television behind them, completely forgotten. Steve’s apartment is hot this time of year, and yet again his air conditioner broke, so their shirts had been discarded long ago. 

Bucky lays with Steve’s head resting on his buff chest, hands wrapped around his neck, as Bucky’s hands trace random patterns on the skin of Steve’s back. An act that they had done so often when they were younger it just felt natural, didn’t feel sexual or romantic in the slightest, no matter how much unresolved tension was between the boys, they belonged in each others arms. 

“I missed you so much, Buck. When you left, god, you took a piece of me with you. I couldn’t sleep without you next to me, I would lay awake late into the night and read your postcards over and over again.” 

“Steve, I missed you too. Not a day went by when I didn’t wish you were with me. Everything I saw made me think of you. Hell, I even mentioned you to everyone I talked to for more than five minutes.” Steve blushes as the words, thank god that alcohol makes people say what’s on their mind. 

“What did you say to me on the phone that night?” 

“What do you mean?”

“When you called me, you said something in another language, what was it?” Bucky smiles and pulls Steve closer to his body, bringing the blond boys body up so he could rest his face in the crook of is neck. 

“ _ Bonne nuit mon amour, bientôt je te tiendrai encore dans mes bras. _ ” Bucky says aga inst Steve’s skin.

“That’s beautiful, but what does it mean?” 

“Worry not of meanings, instead bask in the beauty.  _ Sentez la beauté de mes mots pendant que je regarde la beauté à côté de moi. _ ” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear. 

“That’s gorgeous, Bucky.” 

“ _ Pas aussi beau que toi, mon ange.” _

“God, I wish I knew French.” 

“ _ Le seul français que tu vas apprendre est celui de mon baiser. _ ” 

“I could fall asleep listening to you speak French, Buck. You should tell me a story.” 

“ _J'espère que l'histoire que vous allez entendre sera un jour racontée à nos enfants. Il y avait une fois deux jeunes garçons, séparés par le destin. Un jour, le garçon plus âgé a sauvé la vie des plus jeunes, et ils sont tombés follement amoureux. Mais leur amour était tragique, car aucun des deux garçons ne savait qu'ils étaient aimés par l'autre. À mesure qu'ils grandissaient, leur amour devenait plus fort, au point que le garçon plus âgé ne supportait plus d'être entouré de son amour parce qu'il craignait que le garçon ne ressente pas la même chose. Le garçon plus âgé a voyagé autour du monde à la recherche d'un endroit pour appeler à la maison, un endroit pour tomber amoureux, et un endroit pour être libéré de son jeune amour. Mais quitter son côté amoureux n'a fait que renforcer ses sentiments, en lui faisant jusqu'à présent réaliser que ce garçon était sa maison, que son amour était son monde entier. Après sept ans de séparation, les deux hommes se sont finalement réunis, et le garçon plus âgé a avoué son amour. Ils se sont bientôt mariés et ont vieilli ensemble. Ne jamais quitter leur côté amoureux à nouveau._ ” As Bucky spoke, he felt Steve’s breathing even out and slow down, and he finally had the courage to say what he always wanted to, in English this time.   
“I’m so sorry I left you, Steve. Never again, my love. Never again. Now that I've got you back, I ain't ever letting you go again."


End file.
